soft blues and pinks
by CampionSayn
Summary: February Prompts 2020, Day 6: Pink Lid. When the three of them returned to school in fourth year, it was astounding beyond measure that the twins resisted the urge to give them nicknames the likes of which Honeydukes would probably poach them for.


_Lips raw with love, and then they be dead._  
_-Romance & Cigarettes_

_You're forgetting evolution. A new breed could crop up quite on its own._  
_-Felidae._

* * *

The first thing Hermione learns to dislike rather immensely about the wizarding world, was that they were still rather backwards when it came to their Marks.

Ron was the one to clue her into it rather early, actually. On the train and well before she'd fully read _'Hogwarts: A History'_ even if he hadn't meant to. He'd been talking to Harry, after all.

"My whole family's been in Gryffindor since forever, and so far we've all been Alphas, so I've been crossing my fingers since my letter arrived. Most Alpha's end up in the house of heroes, y'know."

Which seemed to be the general consensus with the rest of the school as well.

Gryffindor, house of hero Alphas.

Slytherin, house of the in-between Betas.

Ravenclaw, house of the observing Omegas.

And Hufflepuff, which everyone seemed to call the house of the Undecided.

Undecided, Hermione realized, must be what wizards (at least purebloods, she'd later tack on with exasperation) considered the sub-dynamics of Gamma, Delta, and Sigma.

She almost growled before she'd gone in, pretending not to have heard, asking about Neville's toad; then she'd met the both of them and tried to put the idea out of her mind.

Surely magical communities knew that Undecided was such an old term and prejudice that hadn't had a place in the world since the '60s.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Miss Granger," the Sorting Hat almost sighed as it rummaged through her head.

Harry and Ron would not know until fifth year that she'd stopped the Hat from putting her in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff because, 'That's just ridiculous and archaic. Put me where I'll be most needed.'

"...You're quite sure about that?"

'Yes! My parents are both Sub-Types, so I'll probably be one, too. I don't want to be written off so easily. There's more to me than that!'

"My, my, I think I believe you. Right, okay-GRYFFINDOR!"

This was probably the start of the changes at Hogwarts, Hermione realized much later, once she and the boys presented and they'd all admitted that they'd requested the Hat to do what was best, rather than what was usual.

Hermione had never laughed so hard when both Harry and Ron turned in third year and the youngest Weasley boy was so utterly confused that she had to explain what a Gamma and a Delta were.

"You're still of the Alpha variety," she'd stated absently, Crookshanks purring like an engine in her lap and her Potions homework laid out next to her, "It's just that you won't go through rut and won't be as obliged to mark your mate or territory because your compulsion to do so is mostly circumvented by your inevitable need to take care of your pack."

Ron stared at her like she was speaking in Czech, "That makes no sense! You just described an Omega!"

Harry looked at Ron like he had finally clued into something he had been missing for the first two years of their friendship, "Wait, you've never heard of Sub-Types? What did you think the Hufflepuffs were this whole time?"

"...Late to bloom?"

"And the seventh years?"

"Late to bloom."

"What do you think Professor Sprout is, Ron? Please, illuminate us," Hermione interrupted the darker boy before he and Ron went in circles for another hour like a badly scratched record.

"She's old!" He almost yelled, his face amazingly pink and making Hermione and Harry think of a kettle top about to pop, "Mum says women only present until their bodies can't produce young anymore and then their scent practically ceases to exist. It's happening to Mum the older my siblings and I get, so it's not like she'd lie."

"And it's not like she's telling you the whole truth either, if you didn't even know there was a chance you could be an Alpha, but without all the annoyances and a few alternative perks. Hence, you, being here, a Gamma."

"Well, then, what the hell are the other options? You said Harry's a…"

"Delta."

"Yeah, right, that. What is that?"

"It's a Beta secondary dynamic that has Alpha features."

"...What?"

Harry waved her down as she sighed longer and more deeply than boded well for Ron if she had to rephrase that herself. Dark hands sunk into even darker hair and she set her forehead against the table. They were her boys and she loved them, but really?

"It means I have the Beta lifestyle, but I don't back down. A Gryffindor with a little Slytherin in them. See?"

That got Ron to pause and think. For about thirty seconds.

"So, a Gamma, that's me, is like a Gryffindor with a little Hufflepuff in them?"

"Yes."

"So, I can still kick ass, but I don't actually have to do it all the time? Not if I don't want to?"

"Correct."

"Huh. Wicked. Wonder what you're gonna end up as Hermione."

A month passed, and the answer came pretty much the second after Malfoy had run off, blood trailing down his nose.

Granted, nobody really thought to acknowledge it until after the whole finding out Sirius was innocent, the rat in Ron's bed was a creepy old guy in his thirties, and that Harry would have to go back to the Dursleys thing.

Then, once every trace of Dementors was gone from the grounds and Harry had taken a few runs on his new Firebolt, both boys were in the middle of sitting down to lunch. They took a moment to breathe in after enjoying themselves...and looked between them at Hermione.

Neither of them could ignore the way their friend smelled when it was so incredibly different from the usual Gryffindor norm. And so fresh that, once they blinked around, they noticed a few upper year students sneaking glances at her.

Not in any sexual way. Actually, when they all thought on it later, it was more like they were finally just noticing her being there , rather than just existing near them .

But first Ron had to put his foot in his mouth.

"You smell weird."

So it fell to Harry to save his best friend's life before Hermione put down her toast to tackle him, or roast him, or something else rather unfortunate.

"You presented, then?"

"Nice save, Harry," she said, sarcasm oozing off of every syllable as she looked over at Ron, trying to resist her newfound urges that had been bombarding her because of her new hormones coupled with familiar but alien aches and pains below the abdomen, "Yes, I did. And how is it I smell?"

First invitation to scent; how could they not both lean in on both sides of her to take a deep breath in equal measure?

It was universally known that Alphas smelled akin to fresh cut grass; Betas smelled the likes of spiced vanilla; and Omegas carried the scent of strong coffee.

Hermione assured them that sub-types varied. Part of the reason why everyone in Hufflepuff seemed a bit more calm and they could co-mingle with the other houses with ease, was because they were built to be mediator and friend. So their smells had to reflect so.

Harry smelled of cocoa beans set to dry out in the sun.

Ron smelled of peppermint tea, sometimes just out of the tin, sometimes just brewed, depending on if others around him were in rut or heat. A 'genetic quirk' as his friends had explained it (never mind that he had no clue about genetics at all).

On the second inhale, they both agreed that Hermione smelled like the cherries stuffed in the center of a cordial.

When the three of them returned to school in fourth year, it was astounding beyond measure that the twins resisted the urge to give them nicknames the likes of which Honeydukes would probably poach them for.


End file.
